I Yea, Christ has many crowns; he has not this.— The sweet unsearchable divinely pure Scent of the rose of passion that can cure All ills, and turn all woes to perfect bliss. He has the Father's,—not the bridal kiss Of God. Love kissed him on his forehead high: But my lips met Love's lips and did not die: Marvellous is the thought; deep peace it is. Deep peace, surpassing rapture, perfect joy:— O wondrous lips of Love that like a Rose Swept o'er my mouth, my whole deep being glows Yet with that memory no death can destroy! Once was I, while alive on earth I trod, Kissed by the red rose of the mouth of God. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN OLD MAN'S WINTER NIGHT by ROBERT FROST BISHOP BLOUGRAM'S APOLOGY by ROBERT BROWNING HIC JACET by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON AN INVITATION TO A DRINKFEST by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE FLITCH OF BACON: MY OLD COMPLAINT (ITS CAUSE AND CURE) by WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH |